


a home of sorts

by paravin



Series: just a different kind [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bullying, Consensual Kink, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Outsider, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29331966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: As far as Glint is concerned, Osiris, Saint-14, and Crow balance each other out nicely.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny), The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: just a different kind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180688
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	a home of sorts

**Author's Note:**

> I’m taking a break from fic for a few days, partly to avoid burn-out after writing like 45k in the last month and partly to just play and enjoy the new season, but in the meantime have some domestic OT3! thank you as always to anyone who's been reading this stuff - I am having an excellent time losing my mind daily over this dumb video game.
> 
> this is just soft Crow/Osiris/Saint hurt/comfort in varying configurations. mostly written before the Season of the Chosen so not necessarily compliant with any new developments from there. 
> 
> brief references to consensual bdsm/painplay about halfway through but otherwise no major warnings for this one.

“Sometimes I wonder if we are making a mistake with the Trials.”

The soft _thump-thump_ of fists hitting padding fills the hallway, and Glint floats closer when he hears Osiris respond, “You are concerned about the Darkness?”

He left Crow asleep upstairs, cheek smushed against a broken Hive tablet, and Glint takes the opportunity to indulge his curiosity as he peeks around the top of the door. He likes Saint and Osiris, and trusts them both with Crow, but habits built over years of snooping in Spider’s safehouse aren’t easily forgotten.

“You are not?” With one last solid punch, Saint turns away from the swinging bag, tugging the wraps off his fists with his mouth. “It happened again last week. A titan this time!”

Osiris’ lips twist in a dry smile. “You do know that warlocks aren’t the only one who can fall prey to corruption?”

“I know.” The wraps fall to the floor as he paces. “I know it can affect anyone. I just…” Saint is too far away for Glint to scan but he can read the frustration in his tone nonetheless. “Trials is supposed to help Guardians to become a beacon of the Light, not to torture each other to death.” 

He stops, looking over to where Osiris is seated on a table nearby, and sounds as uncertain as Glint has ever heard him when he says, “Perhaps we should stop it. There are many enemies out there to fight; they do not need to practice killing each other.”

Silence hangs over the room for a moment, punctuated only by the sounds of Saint’s breathing.

Osiris’ voice is measured when he says, “The number of Guardians who have fallen to the Darkness is still in the single digits.”

“So far!” Saint protests. “Think how many more there could be that we don’t know about!”

“It’s a threat,” Osiris agrees. “One both I and the Vanguard are taking seriously.” He holds out a hand and Glint watches as Saint takes it, moving in to stand between Osiris’ knees. “Are you sure your concerns are just about the Darkness?”

Saint is silent. The lights along his shoulders flicker when Osiris cups his cheek. 

“Crow told me what happened on Nessus.” Osiris’ eyes are dark as he looks up at Saint. “He’s fine.”

Glint’s shell twitches at the memory. While he’d revived Crow with ease afterwards, it had been a slow, brutal death, especially after months of something almost approaching acceptance.

“I trained them.” Saint’s voice is full of fury as he rests his hands on Osiris’ thighs. “The three of them have visited the Lighthouse more times than I can count. I’ve praised them for it, given them _weapons_ , just for them to—”

His voice breaks as he drops his head to Osiris’ shoulder. Osiris draws him in close, offering hushed words of comfort that Glint can’t bring himself to intrude on, and he watches Saint return the embrace, wrapping his arms around him when Osiris presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

It’s an effort not to just push forward, to tell them both that neither he or Crow would ever blame Saint for what happened, but from the way Saint relaxes into Osiris’ touch, it isn’t Glint’s reassurance which is needed now. 

Saint’s head lifts as Osiris coaxes him in for a soft kiss, and Glint slips back out of view to give them the privacy they deserve.  


———

  
“A little to the left!”

“Where’s Crow when I need him,” Osiris mutters, but before Glint can explain that Crow is out buying him some more tea, Osiris complies anyway.

Glint whirrs in encouragement as the large scrying stone scrapes across the floor but he raises his flaps when Osiris’ push is harder than he expected. “Wait, wait, not that far!”

Osiris lets out a noise of frustration but Glint just hovers higher, assessing the angle. “Backwards a little, I think.”

Osiris’ eyes narrow. “Again?”

“I don’t think it will work if it isn’t lined up properly,” Glint says, but beeps when Osiris pulls it more towards the wall rather than away from it. “No, the other backwards. You nearly—”

“Enough!”

Glint freezes at Osiris’ shout. It’s been months since they were under Spider’s thumb, months since that kind of anger could mean a quick end for him and a slow one for Crow, but Glint shudders at the sensation of phantom wiring beneath his plates. 

He sinks lower, keeping his gaze to the ground in apology. “Sorry.”

“Useless,” Osiris grumbles, turning away from Glint to wipe his hands clean. “I’ve seen the trouble you and Crow get into — I should have known better than to ask you to help with something this delicate.”

Glint flinches back at the comment. He knows Osiris can be sharp when he’s irritated — he’s seen Saint and the Guardian call him on it enough times — but being reminded of his failures hurts more than he expected.

He darts away when the door swings open, zooming behind an equipment table for safety, but he peers up over a stack of books when he hears Saint’s voice. “Who are you complaining at now?”

Osiris waves to Glint’s previous location but frowns when he finds he’s only gesturing to empty air. “Where did—” He exhales through clenched teeth. “I don’t know how Crow tolerates him. At least Geppetto is competent.”

Saint’s eyes flash. “You’re angry at _Glint_? Osiris…”

He sounds almost disappointed and Glint ducks behind the books again when Osiris scrubs a hand over his face. “He just—”

“He is new to this,” Saint interrupts. “Just as Crow is. You cannot shout at him for not knowing everything you do.”

He sounds angry and Glint huddles lower in shame. It’s bad enough that he’s disrupted Osiris’ research but now he’s causing an argument too. 

“I’m not asking him to know everything,” Osiris retorts. His tone is softening, more exhausted than annoyed now, but Glint still dips down to hide under the table, just in case. “All he had to do was help position the stone. Sagira could have done it from three blocks away.”

Saint sighs. He closes the distance between them in two strides as he curls his hands around Osiris’ shoulders. “So that’s what this is about?”

Glint can’t see Osiris’ face but can read the tension in his spine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Osiris.” Saint makes a clicking noise in the back of his throat, soft but chiding. “Brother, I miss her too. She was brilliant, far more clever than any of us.”

“And happy to remind us of that fact,” Osiris murmurs. He seems smaller now, tired and frail next to Saint, who bends to kiss him on the forehead. “She would never have let me get so far behind in my work.”

“You are not behind,” Saint says. “You are making more progress than anyone expected.”

Osiris opens his mouth to protest but Saint puts a finger over his lips before he can talk. 

“But you must not be cruel to Glint just because you are grieving,” he says firmly. “He is not Sagira, and we should be glad for that.” He smiles, leaning down to bump his faceplate against Osiris’ nose. “If Sagira had been in Glint’s place, I think the Spider might have blown her up within a day.”

It’s a grim thought and Glint recoils, but he tilts in confusion when he hears Osiris’ quiet chuckle. “‘Deferential’ wasn’t really in her repertoire.”

“You see,” Saint prompts, leaning down to kiss him, “we all have our strengths. It is important you are nice to our new ghost friend.” He smiles. “If you are sad or angry, come find me. I have many things you can shoot.”

Osiris gives a nod, conceding, and Saint leans down to kiss him again. 

Glint turns away, not wanting to intrude, but goes still away when he hears Osiris call, “Glint? Will you come out?”

Locking his plates together to stop himself from shivering, Glint inches out from under the table and is careful to stay out of arm’s reach as he says, “I’m sorry for not helping better.”

One of Saint’s arms is slung over Osiris’ shoulder and Osiris bats his hand away from toying with his beard as he says, sincere, “You were doing your best. I-” He swallows but pushes the words out anyway. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

He gets a kiss to the back of the neck from Saint in reward, and relaxes a little as he gives Glint a half smile. “I apologise, little Light.”

Stunned, Glint looks to Saint, who just chuckles, and then back to Osiris. The contrition seems genuine and Glint rises back up into the air in relief as he responds cheerfullly, “Apology accepted!”  


———

  
It’s late at night when Glint taps his shell against the door of Osiris’ office.

He half-expects him to be asleep — Saint and Crow both passed out hours earlier — but when he gets a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, he peeks round the door. “Sorry to disturb you.”

There’s a smudge of dirt on Osiris’ face as he looks up from beyond the pile of runestones in front of him. “It’s fine.” He stifles a yawn and leans back in his chair. “What do you need? Are Crow and Saint alright?”

“They’re fine,” Glint promises. He floats over to park himself on a stack of books and tries not to fidget. This seemed much easier when he was practising in the mirror. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Osiris raises an eyebrow as a smile plays on his lips. “And what would that something be?”

Glint’s plates knit together in concentration. “It’s about Crow. Well, you and Crow. There’s nothing wrong,” he adds quickly, seeing Osiris frown. “But you’re good at explaining things to him and I was hoping maybe you could explain something to me too. If you have time, that is.”

“I have time,” he says. His gaze makes Glint feel like he’s a puzzle that’s being solved. 

“I know that you and Crow _do things_ together,” Glint begins. “Saint too. I know Crow agrees to it, and I don’t want to pry, but I feel things sometimes, even when I’m not there with him, and I—”

He pauses to collect himself. Osiris just watches, patient and unreadable.

“You beat him the other night,” Glint says, words spilling out in a panicked rush. “Until he cried. I don’t understand why.”

Osiris blinks. 

Glint thinks this might be the first time he’s ever seen him lost for words.

“You don’t have to answer,” Glint says, sheepish. “I know it’s not my business, but just, after Spider, I—”

“You don’t like seeing your Guardian get hurt,” Osiris fills in. He leans forward, elbows on the desk, and adjusts the pile of books to make it more stable. “I imagine few ghosts do. I take it you haven’t spoken to Crow about this?”

Glint rises up just enough to shake his shell in a denial. 

“But you know he enjoyed it?”

“I don’t know,” Glint admits. “I knew he was in pain but beyond that it was just one big _feeling_. I did see the marks though.”

He scanned them all as Crow slept, calculating the exact angle and force of each strike and comparing them to his records of all the punishments Crow suffered at Spider’s hands. He then spent hours trying to reconcile the two, to understand what Crow could possibly have done in his time in the City to earn the same treatment. 

He opts not to tell Osiris this.

“You should ask Crow,” Osiris says, but it’s not the dismissal it could be. “His assurance will be worth more than mine, but I would do nothing to hurt him that he didn’t request.”

Glint remembers Spider forcing Crow to beg for what was coming too. He shudders.

Osiris makes a quiet noise of understanding. “Let me rephrase: I am confident that Crow enjoyed himself. He’s come a long way — he knows his limits now. I’m sure he would have been very clear if it was too much.”

The words tumble out before Glint can stop himself. “But he cried.”

“He did,” Osiris agrees. “Catharsis can be intense but incredibly satisfying. Saint and I were careful with him afterwards.”

Glint’s shell clicks as he hesitates. “Is this because of Spider?”

Osiris’ head tilts in a question and Glint fumbles to elaborate, “You said he enjoys it now, but he never did before. Did- Did something happen? Did Spider brainwash him somehow?”

 _Did I bring him back wrong?_ he wants to ask. _I spent years wanting to make Crow’s pain easier to bear. Did I do this to him?_

“Oh, little Light,” Osiris says, and Glint blinks when he finds himself scooped up in a warm hand. 

Osiris’ eyes glow with the reflection of Glint’s iris as he brings him up to face him. “Nobody has broken Crow. What he went through with Spider has nothing to do with what he enjoys when he’s with Saint and I, aside from informing some of his limitations.” He holds Glint’s gaze. “You should ask him about this. None of us have anything to hide and Crow wouldn’t want you to worry.”

Glint looks down. It’s a little embarrassing how soothing it is to have it laid out like that for him, as clean, easy facts with no room for concern, and he nods as much as he can in the cradle of Osiris’ hands. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“It is no bother,” Osiris says, in a tone that brooks no argument. He gives him a little shake for emphasis. “I’m pleased you asked. I forget that I don’t have Sagira to fill in the blanks on my behalf sometimes.”

Glint floats up with a proud little bob. His shell feels lighter for the reassurance, two days of knotted calculations unravelling at speed, and backs off to the door as he says, “Thank you. I think I understand now.”

Osiris gives a little nod of acknowledgement and Glint bounces in the doorway. “Feel free to hit Crow as much as you like, now that I know he enjoys it.”

Osiris opens and closes his mouth. “That isn’t really how—”

Glint’s gone before he can finish, swooping back down the hallway to find Crow as he calls back, “Goodnight, Osiris!”  


———

  
Saint always falls asleep first.

With Osiris as the other half of the relationship, that wasn’t saying much — Glint’s not still convinced Osiris ever sleeps, despite what medical necessity would suggest — but even with Crow now in the mix, Saint’s bedtime is still the earliest of the three.

Neither of the other two seem to mind though. Osiris often stays in his study until late before joining them in bed, while Crow usually retires at the same time as Saint, propping himself at the head of the bed with a book on his knees and Saint snoring next to him.

Tonight’s book involves a nefarious pirate captain seducing a cabin boy who may or may not be an undercover spy. It is objectively terrible and remarkably lewd but Crow seems engrossed, so Glint tries not to judge too harshly from his perch on Crow’s shoulder.

Despite the cabin boy’s best efforts, Crow’s yawns get more frequent as the night drags on but just before he can succumb to sleep, Saint jerks beside him with a scraping rumble.

It’s not a good or normal noise, metal grinding against metal somewhere deep in his chest, and Glint dashes over to scan as he looks to Crow for help. “Is he—”

Crow holds up a hand to quieten him, the book discarded as he rests a hand on Saint’s chest. “It’s a nightmare,” he says. “He, uh- He gets them sometimes. Osiris showed me…”

He glances around the room, as though hoping for Osiris to appear any second. Saint’s eyes flicker on, the purple glow dull and empty as he continues to pull in uneven breaths, and Crow hesitates, rattled.

“Should I get Osiris?” Glint whispers.

“No.” Crow presses his lips together with a little headshake. “No, I can handle it.”

He moves slow and cautious, shifting closer inch by inch, until Saint’s head and shoulders are settled on his lap, and he curls his body over to press a worried kiss to Saint’s forehead.

“It’s okay,” Crow murmurs, to Saint rather than Glint. “We’re here. You’re safe at home.”

His hands rest on Saint’s shoulders, long fingers finding the soft parts between Saint’s plates and massaging gently. Saint’s eyes close again, even as his breathing stays shallow, and Crow repeats the same phrases over and over, soothing and steady.

Saint’s breathing finally levels out after a couple of minutes, and Glint raises up to float by Crow’s head again. “Is he better?”

“I think so?” Crow doesn’t take his eyes off Saint as he cups his face, planting another kiss to his head. “Osiris usually talks to him afterwards but I haven’t— I’m not sure what to say.”

Glint’s iris contracts in a frown as he scans over Saint’s still-unconscious body. “He doesn’t exactly seem up to talking, Crow.”

“No, I mean—” Crow swallows. “I think it just helps him to listen.”

He shifts position, careful not to jostle Saint’s head, and runs his fingers over Saint’s collarbone as he says, “I stopped by to feed your birds on the way back today. The large one with the white feathers was unhappy I wasn’t you, I think. I tried to do your voice but he wasn’t fooled. Lots of affronted squawking.” He shrugs. “He still ate the feed anyway.”

Glint lands carefully in the center of Saint’s chest. He’s done this often enough with Crow over the years but it feels nice to be helping someone new as he hums, low and quiet. 

“Archie’s leg is looking better,” Crow says. “He was feeling well enough to fight Edith for some of my breakfast this morning.” His fingers trace absent patterns across the planes of Saint’s chest as he smiles. “He lost but I don’t think we can blame him; Edith is very aggressive when it comes to pastries.”

In his lap, Saint stirs, turning his head into the warmth of Crow’s thigh. Crow’s smile widens as he kisses him again, but he keeps up the steady ramble of chatter. “I’m making good progress through the book you recommended. I can see what you meant about the cabin boy but I like the pirate captain the most so far. He’s very charming.”

Even from his position on his chest, Glint can see Saint’s smile and he feels the vibrations in his shell when Saint speaks, “I knew you had good taste, little bird.”

His voice is still heavy with sleep but relief spreads across Crow’s face in an instant. “Welcome back.”

Saint groans, shifting onto his side, and Glint dips out of the way before retreating to Crow’s shoulder. 

“The Crypt again?” Crow asks, concerned.

Saint makes a gruff noise of affirmation. 

Crow just nods. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just sleep.” His lights flutter on and off as he presses a grateful kiss to Crow’s thigh. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

At Crow’s nod, Glint taps the switch for the reading light, and watches as Crow eases down under the covers to curl up beside Saint. “You didn’t,” Crow says around a yawn. “I was reading.”

“Ah.” Slinging an arm over Crow’s waist, Saint audibly starts to power down again as he mumbles, “I knew you would like the captain better.”

Glint can just make out Crow’s smile in the darkness. Saint lapses back into sleep beside him, his breathing now a relaxing tide, and Crow gives him one last kiss on the cheek as he whispers, “I like you more.”  


———

  
“I’m not sure it’s coming off,” Glint says, worried.

He flits higher, running a scan on the substance as Crow continues to scrub with a cloth. “Did you see what they used?”

“Some kind of pen?” Crow gives a helpless little shrug. “I had a lot to focus on.”

They hear Saint before they see him, the squeak of the door opening and the thump of heavy feet on carpet, and Crow hurriedly tugs his hood back over his head before Saint peers around the bathroom door. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” Crow lies. “Just washing up.”

Glint thinks about admitting the truth but soon realises he doesn’t need to when he sees the way Saint’s jaw tightens.

“Little bird,” Saint says firmly, “you know better than this.”

He does, of course, and Crow’s shoulders slump in defeat.

It’s an ongoing tug-of-war, with Crow trying to hide the details of any unpleasant encounters with fellow Guardians, and Saint and Osiris trying to pry the truth out of him so they know who to chastise for it. 

As far as Glint can tell, the battle never has any winners.

“It’s nothing,” Crow says earnestly. “They barely even laid a hand on me.”

Glint counted at least eight hands on Crow at various points during the encounter but settles for an equally truthful contribution when he chimes in, “Crow isn’t injured. I checked.”

Saint’s form fills the tiny bathroom as he moves in to tug gently at the edge of Crow’s cloak. “Then why are you hiding underneath the hood? Don’t tell me it is for fashion.”

“It is a very nice hood,” Glint says helpfully but Crow just sighs as he pushes the hood down. 

Saint’s eyes narrow. He reaches out, cupping Crow’s cheek with tenderness even as his voice shakes with anger. “Who did this?”

Crow doesn’t look at him. It was brief as far as these things go, no stasis walls every thirty seconds to block his path or prolonged taunting as he walked through the City, but the fact they made it out unhurt says more about their attackers’ intentions rather than any good luck on their part. 

The warning was clear enough though, the target and crosshairs scrawled in the middle of Crow’s forehead, and Crow’s cheeks darken with shame as Saint coaxes his head up to inspect the marks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Crow murmurs. “I didn’t see their faces.”

Glint is sure he picked up enough to piece together the identities of at least four of the six Guardians who’d pinned Crow down but he stays quiet, floating at Crow’s back when Saint shakes his head.

“It is unfair,” Saint says, still prickling with anger. “You do not deserve this. They all should know that by now.”

“Most do,” Crow says. “It’s getting better lately. No-one’s tried to hurt me for weeks.”

Easing the cloth from Crow’s hand, Saint eyes the crosshairs again. “There are other kinds of hurt than bullets.”

Glint hears Crow swallow, can sense the stutter in his breath even before he exhales. “I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Saint says. “This- This humiliation, it is cruel.”

Crow ducks his head as much as Saint’s hand allows. “I’ve had worse.”

“That is less reassuring than you think it is,” Saint points out. 

He steps closer and Glint doesn’t miss the way Crow buries his face against Saint’s chest when Saint folds him into a hug. “Just because something is less bad than before, it does not mean it is good.”

Glint watches a shiver go through Crow’s shoulders when Saint rakes his fingers through Crow’s messy hair. His arms loosen slightly where they’re wrapped around Saint’s waist but he doesn’t move his face from his chest as he mumbles, “I know.”

“Good,” Saint says. He scritches through Crow’s hair again, right where Crow is most ticklish, and laughs when Crow squirms against him. “Come. I have some rubbing alcohol in my workshop. It was good for removing ink like that from my skin — it should work for you too.”

Glint’s shell spins, confused. “Did someone draw on you too?”

Saint breaks apart from the hug with an embarrassed chuckle. “Once,” he admits. “When Osiris and I were younger. We had a little too much to drink and I made the mistake of falling asleep first.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, smiling. “It was not the easiest thing to explain to Lord Saladin.”

Crow smiles at that. He gives Saint’s arm a quick squeeze of gratitude before slipping past him to the door. “You said it’s in your workshop?”

“The second drawer down in the red cabinet,” Saint says. “I will be right behind you.”

Crow nods, disappearing out in search of the alcohol, but Saint blocks his path before Glint can follow. “You know who did this, yes?”

Glint nods. “Most of them.”

“Good work, little Light.” Saint holds his hand up in a fist and Glint bumps against it proudly. “You tell me later, yes? Once our little bird is okay, I will go have a talk with these so-called Guardians.”  


———

  
“How’s the research going?”

From the muffled grumbling before they walked in, Glint already knows the answer but Crow doesn’t seem fazed when Osiris greets him with a frown. “Poorly. The same as the last time you asked.”

Any attempts at intimidation are somewhat dented by the sneeze that follows, and Crow gestures to the chair behind the desk. “Will you at least sit down? Please?”

“We brought you a present!” Glint adds, beaming.

“Is it the head of Savathun herself?” Osiris asks sarcastically, but does at least take a seat. “That would certainly be helpful right now.”

“Not quite,” Glint admits. At Crow’s nod, he retrieves the gift from storage but retreats back with a wince when the ceremonial dagger thunks heavily against Osiris’ desk. “Sorry! It’s always bigger than I remember.”

The dagger is honestly closer to a sword but Glint isn’t about to start arguing with the Hive on their naming conventions. The three edges taper to a dull point, pulsing with eerie runes, and Osiris blinks in astonishment as he traces a hand over one side. “This is…”

He looks up at Crow with suspicion. “Where did you get this?”

“From a contact,” Crow says at the same time as Glint replies, “From Spider!”

Osiris’ gaze is glassy as he looks between the two of them, but there’s still enough fire there to make Glint quail when he says, “You went back to Spider?”

“He has a lot of Hive artefacts in storage,” Crow says, almost guilty. “I remembered seeing this while I was looking for lure ingredients, and since you said you were having difficulties with some translations, I thought this might help.”

“You went-” 

He dissolves into coughs before he can finish and Glint advises, “You should really rest. Stress isn’t good for you when you’re sick.”

Osiris’ eyes narrow. “Perhaps you can enlighten me how else I should react to the news that the two of you took such a foolish risk at a time like this?” He shakes his head as he looks at Crow. “You more than anyone know what that creature is like. How could you even think of going back there?”

Even a month earlier, Glint knows Crow would’ve been cowed by the rebuke but his plates flutter in pleasant surprise when Crow just folds his arms across his chest. “ _Because_ I know what he’s like. It was just a trade — I wouldn’t have gone if I thought we’d be in any danger.”

“Anyone who trades with him is in danger,” Osiris mutters.

Crow just smiles. “A manageable level of danger then. About the same level as interrupting you while you’re working.”

“I do not-”

He sneezes again. Crow watches with sympathy. 

“Will it help?” Crow asks. “The sword?”

“Dagger,” Osiris corrects, sniffling. “I’d need some time to be sure but it does look as though this might be the key to understanding some of the changes in the language between two of my sources.”

“Then how about you let me worry about Spider,” Crow says, smiling, “and you just focus on the gift.” He feigns confusion. “I’m sure there are some words — human ones, not Hive — that people say when someone gives them something, but I just can’t recall…”

Glint pretends to run a scan. “No, nothing in my records either. Perhaps it’s just a myth?”

That drags a laugh from Osiris, at least until it turns into another cough. It takes him a second to catch his breath again but he looks between Crow and Glint with a nod of gratitude. “Point taken. Thank you. Both of you. This could be very useful.”

Before Glint can warn about germs, Crow darts in to kiss him on the cheek, then retreats back to a safe distance as he says, “You’re welcome.” He tosses a small packet of aspirin onto the desk as well and flashes Osiris a grin. “For your headache.”

“I don’t have a…”

He trails off under Crow’s gaze and reaches sheepishly for the packet. “Thank you.”

“Our pleasure,” Crow says as he heads for the door, Glint close behind. “Saint’s making a casserole for when you need a break from the creepy Hive sword.”

“Dagger,” Glint and Osiris say simultaneously.

Crow’s only response is a shake of his head as he slips back out into the hallway, and Glint risks one peek back at Osiris. 

The sneeze isn’t a surprise but the fond little smile on Osiris’ face definitely is, and Glint flits back to Crow’s side to report with an appropriate level of triumph, “I think he liked his presents!”


End file.
